


Strange Bedfellows of the Apocalypse

by malum_animi



Category: Good Omens, Supernatural
Genre: Aziraphale/Crowley - Freeform, Community: deancasbigbang, Gabriel/Sam Winchester - Freeform, M/M, Michael/Lucifer (Supernatural)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-24
Updated: 2012-08-24
Packaged: 2017-11-12 19:41:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 20,116
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/494957
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/malum_animi/pseuds/malum_animi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After Gabriel's death the Winchester's lose another ally and their chances of stopping the Apocalypse grow slimmer. But a newly human Castiel has a few more brothers invested in humanities survival.</p><p>deancasbigbang2010</p>
            </blockquote>





	Strange Bedfellows of the Apocalypse

**Author's Note:**

> This was my first big-bang and while I like to think my writing has improved since then, please feel free to leave me some feedback! I also apologize if any formatting is messed up this is the first time I've posted to AO3!
> 
> Also check out the awesome art done by made_of_tin : made-of-tin.livejournal.com/4268.html#cutid1

Now war arose in heaven, Michael and his angels fighting against the dragon. And the dragon and his angels fought back, but he was defeated, and there was no longer any place for them in heaven. And the great dragon was thrown down, that ancient serpent, who is called the devil and Satan, the deceiver of the whole world – he was thrown down to the earth, and his angels were thrown down with him.

Revelations 12:7-9

 

They were down another ally. Gabriel was dead and they had no clue where Castiel was, or if he was even alive. So as the Winchester brothers drove frantically away from the Elysian Fields motel, what little hope they had left crumbled. They stared resolutely out the windshield, silent as the dead night that surrounded them. They drove through the night, drove until they crossed state lines and felt they were as safe as they could ever possibly be in the current situation. They stopped at the first motel they saw and rented the only room left. Dean didn’t mutter about the look the woman behind the desk gave them, and Sam didn’t complain when Dean used up all the hot water. They fell into the king bed and into a restless, fitful sleep. Sam was awakened three times by Dean tossing and turning as he dreamed of Hell, and Dean was awakened once by Sam’s pillow muffled scream as his brother pulled himself out of a Lucifer induced nightmare. 

Dean woke to sun streaming in the crappy blinds. He groaned and turned over, sure it was much too early to be awake. Instead of almost rolling off a small single bed though, he hit a hard solid weight. He cracked open bloodshot eyes, staring at the cloth covered chest of his brother. He raised his head, eyes wandering up to the sleeping face of Sam, who, despite the horror of last night, had a peaceful look on his face. A small smile graced his lips; it wasn’t often he saw his little brother look at peace. The past year and a half had seen to that. Even when disaster wasn’t on their doorstep and the apocalypse wasn’t in their faces, Sam still tread lightly around his brother, afraid of saying or doing something that might break the fragile trust between them.

Dean sighed and brushed an errant lock of hair out of Sam’s face. He didn’t want to wake him, but Dean knew they had to plan their next move. He sat up, stretching protesting muscles, and shook Sam’s shoulder. “Sammy, gotta wake up now,” he said when hazel eyes cracked open. Sam sat up, bones cracking, and stumbled out of the bed and into the bathroom.

Fifteen minutes later, both brothers were dressed and sitting opposite each other at the small, rickety table. “What the hell do we do now, Dean? Gabriel’s dead, so we have no chance of killing Lucifer now,” Sam sighed.

“I know, maybe if we could get a hold of Cas?”

“Dean, we don’t even know if he’s alive, and really, what could he do? He might as well be human now!”

Dean stood and paced around the small room. “I know, I know! What else can we do? Bobby is out of ideas, most other hunters run in the other direction when we show up, and…and…” He trailed off with a defeated sigh and sat on the bed, shoulders slumped and his head in his hands.

Sam went to Dean and laid a hand on his shoulder, squeezing it in support. “Let's wait. We can give Cas a few more days. I’m sure he’s just resting up; he can’t have gotten away uninjured. I saw a decent looking library on our way in; I’ll do research, try and find something else. You can do whatever it is that you do when I research.”

“Yeah, alright, four days, we wait four days then we go to Bobby’s and figure something else out.”

Sam nodded and gave Dean a small smile. “I’ll be at the library.”

`````````````````````````

Dean wasn’t sleeping. He ate, he drank, he tampered with Sam’s laptop, but when night rolled around and Sam came back, he’d lie in bed, stare up at the ceiling, and think. He tried sleeping the first night, but nightmares involving Cas getting ripped apart by the banishing sigil kept him awake. He blamed himself. Cas had practically committed suicide because Dean had been a coward. Because he had lost faith in Dean. I don’t have the same faith in you that your brother does. Cas had believed that Dean would give in, that all they had worked for, all Castiel had lost, was going to be thrown away. At least I don’t have to watch you fail. I gave everything for you! He had betrayed Cas, and it might have cost him his life.

Sam confronted him about it on the second night. “You haven’t been sleeping.” It was more of a statement than a question.

Dean arched an eyebrow in Sam’s direction but stayed silent.

“You have to sleep Dean; you can’t run on beer and pie.” Sam was worried. “I thought you’d taken a nap, but the bags under your eyes say differently.”

“I’m fine, Sammy, just a little case of insomnia, nothing new,” he lied smoothly. No way was he letting Sam in on his not so little guilt trip; his brother would insist they talk.

Sam looked at him like he didn’t believe a word that came out of his mouth, and he probably didn’t. He was too good at calling Dean on his lies. But he shrugged his broad shoulders and sighed, “Whatever, Dean, but try and get some sleep tonight okay?”

Dean shrugged and flopped back on his bed. He didn’t sleep that night either.

On the third day, Dean was beyond worry. He paced the small room restlessly, glancing at his cell phone every few seconds, mentally begging it to ring. Where was Cas? Was he dead? If he wasn’t, why wasn’t he contacting Dean? Had he truly given up on Dean, to the extent that he didn’t even want to know what had happened to him?

Around noon, he grabbed the keys to the Impala (the town was small and Sam had been walking to the library) and took off. He didn’t have a destination in mind and he knew he had to be back before Sam was. So he drove. He drove for an hour before he pulled over into a small clearing. Stumbling from the Impala, he fell to his knees in the grass. Looking up at the sky, Dean did something he had only done once before. He prayed. “Cas, I don’t know if you can even hear me anymore or if you’re even listening, but I’m worried shitless about you. I didn’t say yes, I won’t say yes, ever. If you’re alive, please call me or something, just so I know you’re okay. If you’re still mad at me and that’s why you’ve gone MIA, I’m sorry, and you know I don’t say that often. Just please come back. I…I miss you.”

He sat there in silence for ten minutes before he rose. “It was worth a shot.” he mumbled to himself. Getting back in the Impala, he stared out the windshield as he thought. They couldn’t wait for Cas any longer; they were wasting too much time. Starting the Impala and driving swiftly back to town, Dean made up his mind. They would leave when Sam got back. Cas or no.

Dean crashed around three o’clock. Three days of no sleep and all the stress that was piled on him already had him fairly collapsing where he stood. Sprawled across the bed, Dean was pulled into a dreamless sleep. Until it wasn’t. He opened his eyes to the field he’d kneeled in only hours before. Only it wasn’t empty anymore. Smack dab in the middle stood Castiel. Dean gasped and ran up to him, reaching out to touch only to have his hand go through the angel’s shoulder. “This is a dream isn’t it?”

“Not really. I do not have enough energy to fully manifest myself in your dreams, so I remain incorporeal,” Cas said, looking at Dean with fond amusement. “I heard your prayer. I could not answer until you fell asleep. Have you not been sleeping? I tried to contact you earlier.”

“Not really. Why didn’t you just call?” Dean didn’t really want to get into why he wasn’t sleeping. It raised too many questions he didn’t want to analyze right now.

“I seem to have lost my phone when I used the banishment sigil. They will not allow me use of a phone at this hospital.”

“Hospital? You’re at a hospital? What the hell happened?” Dean knew Cas was low on mojo, but was he so low that he couldn’t even heal himself?

“Yes, it appears that I have burned out most of what was left of my grace. Dean, I can’t stay here long; I am too weak. I believe I am in a town called Delacroix Island, Louisiana. I have an idea; I shall tell you when you get here.” He gave Dean a small smile and flickered out of existence.

“Cas!” Dean woke with a jerk, flinging himself off the bed. It was dark out and Sam was fast asleep in the bed next to his. He let out a shuddering breath and dragged a hand through his hair. Cas was alive. Cas was safe.

 

Sam rolled over and groaned, “Dean, what the hell, it’s two in the morning.” He sat up, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

“I know. Look, I know where Cas is, we need to go get him,” Dean said as he slipped his boots on, zipping up his duffel and throwing Sam his.

“What? How?” Sam asked as he stood from the bed, grabbing his earlier discarded shirt.

“When I was asleep, Cas popped into my dream again, told me where he was. He’s in a hospital. Sam, carving that sigil into him really hurt him. Took what was left of his mojo.”

Sam zipped his bag and threw Dean the keys to the Impala. “Then let’s go get him.” And maybe Dean would pull his head out of his ass for once and see what was in front of him. Sam wasn’t blind; he knew his brother had feelings for the angel that went beyond friendship. Maybe Castiel’s sacrifice would be the push Dean needed to see that Cas returned those same feelings. But then again, Sam thought as he watched Dean sign them out as he flirted with the woman behind the desk, his brother was awful thickheaded at times.

It was a twelve hour drive to get to Delacroix Island, Louisiana, and Dean drove at least a hundred to get there. Sam wanted to stop for the night; after all, Sam said it wasn’t like Cas was going anywhere. That had only gotten him The Winchester Glare of Death and the silent treatment for most of the ride. So Sam was curled up in the backseat, dead to the world, and Dean was driving silently. He was more than glad that Cas was alright, but what did one say when the fact he was in the hospital was his fault? If only he hadn’t tried to say yes, if only he’d listened to Cas; hell, he even banished the guy!

An hour away, he reached back and poked Sam. “Sammy, wake up, we’re almost there.”

Sam sat up, stretching the best he could and yawned, “So what do you think this idea is that Cas mentioned?”

“Dunno.” Dean shrugged. “He seemed out of ideas last time we saw him. Guess he’s had some time to think.” Cas hadn’t seemed excited or anxious when he’d talked to him, but that was just Cas; he hardly ever showed emotion when he talked…unless he was beating the crap out of Dean. The anger in Cas’ blue eyes and rough voice had intimidated Dean more than the actual beating had. But he was gonna make it up to Cas one way or another.

There was one hospital and three clinics in Delacroix Island; they had checked the clinics first to no avail. Now, as they walked through the sliding doors of Delacroix General Hospital, Dean knew they were close to Cas. He could always tell when the angel was nearby, for the handprint on his arm would tingle and burn. He could probably just walk around the hospital and find Cas by using his weird angel radar. But that would take too long, he thought, as he walked up to the young nurse behind the window and flashed his most charming smile. “Ma’am, I’m looking for my brother, black hair, blue eyes, goes by the name Castiel?”

She blushed at him. “Oh yes, I remember him; poor thing, they thought he was brain dead, but he just woke up healthy as one can be after coming out of a coma. You’re his brothers?”

Sam and Dean just smiled and nodded, letting the young nurse babble on as she dug out what they assumed was a copy of Cas’ medical file. “I’m glad you two showed up, maybe you can talk some sense into him; he’s been threatening to check himself out all day!”

“Is he not healthy enough to leave?” Cas had said he was weak, not that he was injured.

“Oh no, he’s fine, but the doctor wants to do a psych exam on him. Apparently he was going on about angels and demons when he woke up.”

Dean grimaced. “Oh that’s nothing; he has had nightmares like that since he was little.” Anything to avoid a psych exam; they’d lock Cas up for good!

The nurse smiled at him. “Well, then you can explain that to his doctor and then we’ll see about getting him out of here.” She stopped in front of a closed door and motioned at it. “Here we are! I’ll send the doctor along soon.” With another smile she walked off, leaving Dean and Sam looking at each other with cautious hope.

Dean let out a rush of breath he didn’t even know he’d been holding and flung open the door. Cas was laying in the bed, propped up and glaring out the window. He looked no different from the last time they had seen him, maybe a little paler and Dean could see the hint of bandages around his chest. “Cas!” he exclaimed, striding forward to Cas’ side.

The tension seeped from Cas’ body. “Dean” he said in relief. “They won’t let me leave.”

The annoyance in Cas’ voice made Dean chuckle. “I know, dude; they wanna examine your head.”

Cas’ head tilted in confusion. “But my head is fine.”

Sam chuckled as well. “What Dean means is that they want to make sure you’re mentally okay; you were talking about angels and demons when you came around.”

“Ah.” Cas nodded. “Yes, I was quite out of it when I woke up. I am not sure of what I said.” 

Dean pulled up a chair and sat beside Cas. “So what’s this idea you have?”

Cas sighed and leaned back into the hospital bed. “I…have a brother. Named Aziraphale, he—“

“Whoa, wait! Another angel? Cas, your brothers are dicks! They’ve done nothing but try to kill us!” Dean exclaimed.

“Aziraphale is different. He has been on earth since the beginning; he helped stop the apocalypse twenty years ago.”

“This isn’t the first time the apocalypse happened?” Sam asked in surprise. They were under the impression that the end of the world was a onetime deal.

“No. I am not sure what happened, only that Aziraphale and a demon he had befriended worked together to stop the Antichrist. They both have remained hidden from Heaven and Hell ever since.”

Dean scowled. “And how do you know that when we summon him he won’t just smite us all?”

Castiel chuckled lowly. “There is a reason Aziraphale is not a soldier. He detests violence. He’ll exorcise demons, but when it comes to actual battle he prefers to be on the sidelines. I don’t believe he has ever smitten anyone.”

Dean grumped but gave in. “Fine. We’ll summon Aziraphale. We just have to get you outta here first. Where the hell is that doctor?

```````````````

It took the brothers a good hour to get Castiel released. Convincing the doctor that no, Cas wasn’t crazy and that he did not carve into his own chest took a lot of work. Eventually, the doctor bought the story that Castiel had been in an abusive relationship with a Satan worshiping freak that had dumped Cas on the boat. They reassured the doctor that yes, the guy had been caught, and no, they didn’t need to see someone as that was the reason they were taking Cas home.

Once the doctor left, Dean sighed in relief. He handed Castiel his remaining clothing (the white button up had been completely soaked in blood) and one of Dean’s shirts. They rushed Castiel out of the hospital, all three eager to put the place behind them.

Cas was weaker than a human; the banishing sigil had taken more than the angel’s grace. But despite protest from Dean and Sam to wait until he regained more energy, Castiel started the summoning ritual almost as soon as they settled into the motel. Dean poured a ring of Holy oil and Sam readied their weapons as Castiel chanted lowly in Enochian. The cheap lights flickered, and Sam’s research papers fluttered in the unnatural breeze that drifted through the room. Castiel chanted louder, and the breeze picked up, wind whipping his and Sam’s hair around their faces. A bright light filled the room, causing Dean and Sam to drop their weapons and cover their eyes.

Two British accents rang out in the room.

“Oh dear!”

“Bloody hell!”

`````````

 

 

The five men in the room stared at each other in astonishment. Dean and Sam stared at the angel in disbelief. They had been expecting someone like Raphael, not a…bookworm. That was the only word for him. Short, unruly blond hair, blue eyes hidden beneath glasses, pale and slightly pudgy, and dressed from head to toe in tartan. The only things that marked him as an angel were the ruffled, white wings spread behind him, blocking his unexpected companion from any attack. Castiel was glaring at his companion. Tall and slender, with slicked back black hair and black sunglasses covering his eyes, the man was dressed in all black save for his snake skin boots. No wings sprouted from his back, but Castiel knew exactly what he was.

“Castiel, dear, is that you?” The bookworm, or Aziraphale, Dean guessed, asked in surprise as he took in the room and the ring of fire that surrounded him. “Why on earth did you summon me?”

“We need your help, brother. But first, I would like to know why one of the Fallen is standing behind you.” Castiel all but growled at his brother.

At that, Dean and Sam snatched up their weapons and cocked and pointed them at the man now edging his way further behind one wing. The man—thing—man hissed lowly at them and bared sharp fangs.

Aziraphale flapped a hand at him and shushed him, then turned his attention back to Castiel. “You don’t know, my dear?” His confusion was clear to all three men.

“I am unaware of anything concerning you, brother.”

Aziraphale smiled and pulled the demon behind him to his side; he pulled up a shirtsleeve and showed them the handprint seared into the demon’s arm. “This is Crowley, my Mate.”

Dean growled and pointed his lowered gun back at the demon. “Crowley? As in the Crowley who gave us the colt?” That bastard had gotten Ellen and Jo killed. If this was the same demon, then Dean was gonna put an end to him, mated to Cas’ brother or not.

Crowley huffed and pulled his sleeve back down. “Please, I have way more class than that joke. King of the Crossroads my arse. Bloody imposter stole my name, and then kissed all the hellish feet he could.”

“This Crowley is one of the Fallen. You may remember him as the Serpent of Eden,” Castiel remarked. “And you mated with him, Aziraphale? I am surprised you have not been recalled.”

Aziraphale cocked his head. “Why would I be recalled? Michael gave me his approval himself.”

That made Cas pause. “You have spoken with Michael? Then you know of Michael’s plans to end the Apocalypse.”

Aziraphale frowned. “Castiel, that was nearly twenty years ago. Michael hasn’t been seen in Heaven since he spoke with me. What is going on here?”

That was a question Castiel would like the answer to himself.

````````

They had put out the ring of Holy fire, but Dean was still keeping a close eye on the two newcomers. Castiel might trust his brother, but Dean had too many bad encounters with angels to have the same trust, and he definitely didn’t trust Crowley. The brothers sat on Sam’s bed with Castiel hovering beside them, and Aziraphale and Crowley sat on Dean’s bed as they told the three what they knew.

“The Apocalypse was supposed to happen nearly twenty years ago. The Antichrist was born; you know the whole Revelations thing. But there was a mix up; the child didn’t go to the right parents, so he was brought up differently. He was raised to be good. When his part came around, he refused to act and ordered that the whole thing be stopped,” Aziraphale explained. He motioned at Crowley. “Crowley and I have had an Arrangement since about 1033 BC. We had come to consider Earth our home, not Heaven or Hell. So we helped Adam. Things went back to normal.” Aziraphale blushed as he continued. “Our relationship changed afterward. I fell in love with him.”

Crowley took over then. “And I fell in love with him.” He pointed at Castiel. “Don’t give me any of that crap that demons can’t love either; we can, we just choose not to. Anyways, mating was a risk, and despite being of angelic stock, I am a demon, and Zira’s grace could have killed me. But we did it anyways. A week later, Mike showed up. Stuck up prick didn’t even knock, just poofed into the middle of our bedroom. Interrupted some delicate things, he did. I was expecting to be smitten right there, stark bollocks naked and in my own bed. Instead, he wished us a happy life together and reassured poor Zira that he wasn’t gonna Fall and that no one would bother us. That was the last we heard of him. Zira went to Heaven for a short time later and found out that Michael had left.” Crowley shrugged and wrapped an arm around the still blushing Aziraphale. “Now, you care to tell us why you dragged us across the ocean?”

Dean snorted and ticked off his fingers. “Lucifer’s free and wants to use my brother as an angel condom, I’m told that Michael wants me as his angel condom, and the world as we know it is about to end. Does that sum it up for you?”

Cas sent him a disapproving look, but stayed quiet while Crowley snickered.

“By ‘angel condom’ I assume you mean as a vessel?” Aziraphale asked dryly. Dean nodded and Aziraphale ‘hmm’d’. “I don’t see why either would require a human vessel when they are quite capable of creating one of their own. Of course, they both always had a thing for dramatics. It’s why Lucifer’s temper tantrum has lasted this long.”

“Temper Tantrum?” Sam asked incredulously. His life had been turned into hell because Lucifer threw a fit?

Crowley chuckled. “Course! Luci thought Daddy loved the new baby more than him, and he threw a hissy fit. Daddy put him in time out until he apologized. Lucifer is still sitting in the corner and pouting like a metaphysical four year old with enough power to rip planets apart when he’s mad.” Aziraphale elbowed him sharply in the ribs for his near blasphemous talk, but a small smile quirked at the corners of his mouth and he didn’t bother to correct Crowley’s summary of Lucifer’s Fall. It was near right anyways.

“I do not understand. If Michael is gone, how is he to destroy Lucifer?” Castiel asked. Since he had been created, all he had been taught was that Michael would kill the Morningstar, and that Michael would bring about Paradise. He had never actually seen the Archangel, though, and now he knew why.

Aziraphale sighed and shook his head. “It’s apparent you were created long after the war. I remember Michael after he sealed Lucifer away. Something was broken in him. Michael and Lucifer loved each other; nothing in Heaven or Earth could persuade Michael to fight him again. I don’t know what they’ve been teaching you Up There, but it’s very wrong.”

Dean broke in. “Look, I don’t really care what happened before all this. All I know is that the Devil wants to end the world, and he wants to wear my brother’s body to do it. Now, we summoned you here to ask for your help. Are you gonna give it?”

Aziraphale cocked his head at Dean, eerily similar to another angel in the small room, and smiled. “Of course we are! Why wouldn’t we?”

````

Three days later, Crowley had bamf’d all of them to one of his houses in the States, claiming there was only so much slumming one demon could take! It looked like a mansion to Sam and Dean, with two stories and more rooms than the hotel they had been staying in. The two hunters lazed around for what seemed like the first time in their lives.

“So…what has Team Free Will been doing to stop the Apocalypse?” Crowley asked with an ever present smirk as they sat around the plush living room.

“We tried to kill him, shot him right between the eyes with the colt, and all he did was stand back up,” Dean said as he pulled the antique gun from inside his jacket, showing it to the unimpressed demon and the obviously curious angel. “The other Crowley gave it back to us, said it would work. It didn’t.” He shuddered briefly as Ellen and Jo’s faces flashed through his mind.

Crowley shook his head and snatched the gun from Dean’s hand. “You foolssss!” he hissed. “Thisss issss called the demon killing gun for a reason!” He waved it around. “He may be evil, but Lucifer is no demon!” He threw the gun down and it clattered against the glass top table between them. “I have been fallen as long as Lucifer, and you could sssshoot me and it would have no effect. We are angelssss! Fallen or not, we sssstill have grace. That sssslimy git should have known that!”

Dean stared at the gun as rage built up inside him. They should have known better than to trust that demon. The next time Dean came across him, he was going to kill him. Slowly and painfully with Ruby’s knife, using those skills he picked up in Hell. “Then how do we kill him?” Because no matter how much he wanted the other Crowley to suffer, getting rid of Lucifer and stopping the Apocalypse was first on his To Do list.

Crowley barked out a short laugh and Aziraphale tsked. “You cannot kill an angel, dear. We are essentially immortal.”

“That cannot be true! Raphael smote me; Lucifer stabbed Gabriel with his own blade. I was dead. Gabriel is dead.” Castiel spoke up, more distraught than Dean had ever seen the angel.

Aziraphale smiled sadly. “My dear boy, you were not dead; your grace was merely scattered. You have been taught that angels can be killed; therefore, you thought you were dead and had been resurrected. As for Gabriel, that archangel has been ‘killed’ more times than I can count. He’ll pop back up sometime soon.”

Cas sat back into the armchair he was occupying and frowned. “If we cannot kill Lucifer, how are we supposed to stop this?”

“Before he was stabbed, Gabriel gave us a DVD that he made telling us about the four rings of the Horsemen—“

“Nope.” Crowley cut Sam off. “We’ve met the Horsepersons*; the power that those rings held has long since worn off. The rings are useless.”

The hunters slumped down in their seats, completely out of ideas. “What the hell are we gonna do then?” Dean growled.

Aziraphale’s blue eyes narrowed in thought. “I may have an idea.”

````` * when Aziraphale and Crowley had met the Horsepersons, War had been a rather beautiful, buxom woman

Aziraphale had disappeared into a room that Crowley had revealed to be—much to Sam’s delight—a giant library, and had returned with a book that rivaled most of Bobby’s in age and condition. He sat it carefully on the table and flipped in open to about midway. “There is a passage here that mentions text used to seal away powerful beings. I myself have never heard of such a ritual, but it is entirely possible that this would work on Lucifer.”

Sam pulled the book to him, scanning the faded words carefully. “This says that the ritual is a myth, that no one has ever seen it done or seen the text itself. How do we know it actually exists?”

Aziraphale shrugged. “We don’t, but short of talking to Michael and God and convincing them to stop this, we don’t have much choice.”

“God will not help us; Joshua has assured me of that,” Castiel sighed from his place beside Dean.

“Could we find Michael? You said that he wouldn’t want to fight; maybe he would help us,” Sam suggested.

Aziraphale shook his head. “If he wanted to disappear, he did. Only God would be able to find him. It took millennia for someone to figure out who Gabriel was. If you two hadn’t come along, he might have stayed Loki forever. The archangels are masters at disguise.”

“We don’t need Michael’s help,” Dean growled. “Why would we want to ask the guy who’s supposed to use me as an angel condom to help?”

“If what Aziraphale says is true, there is a great possibility that Michael is unaware of his part in this. He may know nothing about Dean or his status as the vessel,” Castiel commented. “But Aziraphale is right; we would never be able to find him.”

Crowley stood from his seat and grabbed the book from Sam, causing both him and Aziraphale to wince at his rough treatment. “This is our best bet right now. Let’s try and find the ritual and go from there; it’s all we can do.” When Dean grumbled and made to protest, Crowley’s serpentine eyes narrowed, and he hissed, “Lisssten here you bumbling humanssssss! Azzziraphale and I are your only chance to ssssstop thisssss, and you will bloody well lissssten to what we ssssay!”

Dean sat back with a pout that he would deny to his last breath and glared at Crowley. “I refuse to sit here on my ass while you two zap all over the freaking world!” They glared at each other for a minute until Aziraphale sighed and rolled his eyes.

“Crowley, dear, sit down and shut up. “ He pushed the demon back and turned to Dean. “Dear boy, you will not be sitting here doing nothing; there are still monsters to be killed, still innocent people to be protected. We shall help you, of course, in between searching for the ritual.” 

Dean nodded sharply and stood. “Then let’s go. We still have to find Pestilence and Death; even if the rings don’t work we can’t let them stay on earth.”

Sam stood as well. “So Dean, Cas, and I will hunt the remaining horsemen while you and Crowley try and find the ritual,” he summarized.

“Actually…” Aziraphale said sheepishly, “we kind of need Castiel. He has knowledge that I don’t, Heavenly tactics and Enochian that I don’t possess.”

Cas furrowed his forehead in confusion. “I am no longer an angel; my grace is nonexistent. I would only hinder you in your search.”

Aziraphale smiled. “Only God can remove an angel’s grace permanently. You are simply drained. In time it will return. Don’t worry either; the last angel to have their grace removed was Anael, and she had requested it. He won’t take your grace, Castiel.”

Cas’ shoulders slumped in what seemed to be relief, and he gave Aziraphale a small smile. “We should begin if we want to find the ritual before something else happens,” he murmured.

Aziraphale beamed and grabbed Cas’ hand. “Well then, we’ll be off! One of us will pop in occasionally to make sure you’re still in one piece.” And with that, they were gone.

````````````

They didn’t see the angels or demon until roughly three weeks later while they were hunting a particularly vicious woman-in-white. Dean was pinned to the dusty warehouse floor with a heavy pipe across his legs, watching as the once mother of three dug her fingers into Sam’s chest.

Sam was screaming in pain as Dean struggled to get out from underneath the pipe when Crowley popped into the room. The woman-in-white didn’t notice the Fallen until he ripped into her with angelic grace warped by Hell. Sam crumpled to the floor gasping and grabbing at his bleeding chest as she dissipated above him.

Crowley snapped and the weight lifted from Dean’s legs and he scrambled over to his brother. He pulled Sam’s shirt up, pressing his hand over the holes. “Where the hell were you guys? You said you’d help us; that included keeping us alive!” he growled.

Crowley rolled his eyes and waved a hand over Sam’s chest, closing the wounds and leaving the skin unscarred. “He’s fine. And for your information, we didn’t even know you were in trouble until Cas told us.”

“Where are Aziraphale and Cas?”Sam gasped as Dean pulled him to his feet.

Crowley shrugged.“Somewhere in Romania, I think. Cas says hi, by the way.”

“Is he alright?” Dean asked. Cas may trust his brother and the demon, but Dean was still wary of them. That was the only reason Dean was asking…really.

Crowley smirked and Dean scowled. “He’s fine; worried about you morons, but in a general sense of things he’s fine.” 

Dean glared but nodded, and Sam looked between them in confusion. Dean always tensed up around Crowley. Sam didn’t know if it was the fact he was a demon or the little comments Crowley liked to make about his brother and Cas. He watched as Dean gathered their supplies, and flinched when Crowley sidled up to him and whispered, “Your brother needs to pull the stick out of his ass and bed Castiel.” 

Sam flinched away and frowned at Crowley, who just smiled and rocked back on his heels. “Do you have to say stuff like that?” Crowley laughed. “Course I do! My day’s not complete until I ruffle Dean’s feathers.”

Sam glanced over at Dean; was that why his brother had been so tense lately? Was he missing Castiel? Sam knew Dean was bi, had known since Dean was sixteen and was caught necking with the preacher’s son in the Impala. He also knew Dean’s feelings for the angel ran deeper than his brother would ever let on, but he knew his brother would never act on that, Dean had too much respect for the angel to try anything (he was probably scared of being smitten as well. Sam sure would be).Sam shrugged and Crowley grinned, sauntering over to annoy Dean. Sam ignored most of what Crowley said, but he made a mental note to keep a closer eye on Dean when Castiel was around.

``````

Romania—sometime in the early 1500’s

Romania wouldn’t actually be a country for another few centuries, but the leads Crowley had picked up through means that Aziraphale and Castiel had no desire to know about had lead them here. One of Crowley’s less than human contacts had—under the threat of castration with a holy sword—told them of a pagan god that might know where to find the ritual.

That left Aziraphale and Castiel—Crowley had gone to save the brothers from their latest mishap—in the middle of a Romanian forest, preparing to summon a goddess. The summoning spell was quick and easy. A few chants here and a few drops of blood there, and soon the winds were ruffling the angels’ hair, and the goddess appeared in a swirl of mist.

Zana was the very definition of beauty. She was tall and slender, with long thick black hair and pale skin. She wore a flowing black dress that pushed her bust up enough that, had either angel been mortal (or inclined to like woman parts), they would have been very tempted. She was the goddess of beauty and life and was just as keen about taking it as she was giving it. She eyed the two angels with an air of distaste.

„What do the warriors of the sky want with me?” she asked in a thick Romanian accent. „Do you not have more important matters to address?” 

Aziraphale and Castiel bowed in respect to the poweful woman and Aziraphale stepped forward. „I’m sure you are aware of what has been happening lately—„

”Yes, it seems that your older brother has escaped his cage, hasn’t he?” Zana sneered at them.

Aziraphale blushed. “Well yes, that’s why we are here. We’re trying to get him back in.” 

“You wish for my help?” She asked, arching a perfectly sculpted eyebrow.

Aziraphale nodded. “We were told you were in possession of a ritual that would help us cage Lucifer.”

Zana stared at them, a look of disbelief gracing her features. Then she laughed. “You fool! Even if you combined power with the Fallen I know you are mated to, you wouldn’t have near enough power to harness the spell!” She laughed cruelly. “It would take the grace of all four archangels to harness this spell!”   
She reached between her breasts and pulled out a small piece of rolled parchment and threw it on the ground in front of the angels. “Do what you want with it; I have no need of it.” With that she disappeared, leaving them in an empty forest.

Castiel reached down and plucked the parchment from the ground, gently untying the silk ribbon that held it closed. The holiness radiating from it was so intense that even Castiel’s weakened grace could feel its power. The words that held the power were written in a language so old that only five beings knew it. He handed it to Aziraphale who gasped when he read it.

“Castiel…do you know what this is?” he asked in awe. “Cas, this is what Michael used to seal away Lucifer in the beginning!”

````````````

Crowley tended to be wary of things that could kill him. So when his mate and the littlest angel brought back a scrap of paper Aziraphale boasted to have come from the hand of God, Crowley sensibly kept his distance. He watched from one of his Italian leather armchairs as Zira, Cas, and Sam devoured any and all books that could help them.

Dean sat in the chair across from him, glaring at everything and everyone (except Castiel) that came within a foot of him. Sam had explained that Dean had gotten his stomach slashed open (why he didn’t just ask one of them to heal it Crowley would never know) and always acted like this when he was injured. Crowley was amusing himself by making faces at the pissed off hunter, and watching as Dean became more and more annoyed.

But while annoying Dean was fun, Crowley was frustrated by the lack of progress the angels and Sam were showing. “Why are we bothering with this when we know we can’t even use it?”

Aziraphale looked up, unneeded glasses perched on his nose. “Just because Zana said that doesn’t mean there isn’t a way around it.” He eyed Crowley. “You should be familiar with using the backdoor approach to things.”

Sam leaned forward. “You said that Gabriel would be back soon; could he work the spell?”

Aziraphale nodded. “As an archangel, he certainly has the power to, but this only works with all four of the archs. Michael is gone and Uriel is untrustworthy. The only archangels left are Gabriel and Lucifer.”

“What about Cas? He’s pretty powerful, right?”

“My grace is far too depleted to do even the smallest spell. Besides, I am only a Seraphim; the Archangels are far more powerful.” Cas sighed and bowed his head. He hated being so weak that all he was good for was research. He couldn’t even bring his wings into this plane anymore.

Aziraphale looked at his youngest brother in sympathy. Castiel didn’t deserve any of what had been thrown at him, being banned from Heaven, hunted by their brothers and sisters, all for doing what was right. It wasn’t Castiel’s fault Heaven was running amok. He stood and motioned for Castiel to come with him.

“Aziraphale, is something wrong?” Castiel asked once they were in a separate room, far enough that they could talk freely without the humans or Crowley overhearing.

“No, nothing is wrong. I just wanted to speak with you about your failing grace.”

Castiel looked down in shame, but Aziraphale grasped his chin and forced him to look at him. “What has happened to you isn’t your fault. You did what was right and was punished for it. While I cannot give you back all your grace, I can kick start it.”

Cas tilted his head in confusion. “What do you mean?”

Aziraphale smiled. “Your grace isn’t returning near as fast as it should. Probably because you keep exhausting what little you have left on the Winchesters. I can nudge it along enough that it will start growing on its own.” He nodded. “With your permission of course.”

Castiel stared wide eyed at his brother. “Please! I…I hate being so useless!”

“You’ll never be useless.” Aziraphale said as he summoned his grace and pushed it at Castiel, wrapping it around his brother’s ethereal body and searching for the tiny spark that was Castiel’s grace. When he found the dim flame, he curled his grace around it, nudging it and willing it to grow. Soon, what was once a small, flickering flame slowly grew into a roaring fire, twisting and curling along with Aziraphale’s grace. When Aziraphale pulled back, Castiel tried to follow, too caught up in the sensation of feeling another angel after so long cut off. Aziraphale chuckled and pushed Cas back, watching his brother sway on his feet.

“That feels…I feel so good!” Cas exclaimed. For the first time in what felt like forever to the angel, he could feel his wings fluttering and shifting around.

Aziraphale patted him on the cheek. “It’s not all back yet, so don’t go wasting it and exhausting yourself again.”

Cas nodded. “I won’t. Thank you, brother, you don’t know how much this means to me.”

Aziraphale smiled and patted his cheek again before walking away, leaving Castiel to stretch and preen invisible wings.

`````````

After two days, Aziraphale had given up on the ritual. He threw his glasses down and sat back in his seat with a sigh. Immortal or not, he swore the damn thing was giving him a headache. The rumble of laughter behind him caused him to jump in surprise. “Crowley, dear, really, did you have to sneak up on me?”

 

“I didn’t sneak, angel; you’re so caught up in that piece of paper a bomb could have gone off in here and you wouldn’t have noticed.” Crowley laughed, draping an arm around his angel. He slid over the back of the couch and sat next to Aziraphale, butting his head against his shoulder.

Aziraphale sighed and pulled Crowley close, placing a kiss on the demon’s temple. “I’ve given up on it, dear. There is no way we can use it. I’m worried, love; we don’t have very many options left, and there are a few weapons…but as far as I can tell, Michael is our only hope for winning this.”

“Is there any way we could find him?” Crowley had only met the archangel once, when he had given him and Aziraphale his blessing, but he had liked the angel, thought he wasn’t as much of a dick as the rest of them.

Aziraphale shrugged. “I honestly don’t know. Gabriel spent millennia hiding from everyone, and no one found him until now. Michael has more power than Gabriel; he could have completely remade himself, right down to his grace. It would probably take a miracle, and we’ve been kind of short on those recently.”

Crowley slipped his arms around Aziraphale, tugging him closer and hugging him tightly. He didn’t like seeing his angel so down. “We’ll fix it, Zira, you’ll see.” 

“I hope so, Crowley, I really do,” he sighed.

The two sat there, watching as Dean stomped through the living room into the kitchen, Castiel trailing behind him like a puppy.

Crowley laughed. “You know the littlest angel is in love, right?”

Aziraphale grinned and nodded. “Oh, yes, the love just radiates off him. But they’re both so oblivious to it!”

Crowley shook his head . “Castiel might not know, but Dean is well aware of how he feels for his angel. Unfortunately, the man must angst about everything and thinks all he deserves is hellfire.”

“They’ll figure it out eventually.” Aziraphale smiled, lifting Crowley’s face to his. “After all, we did.” Then he kissed his demon, letting all his worries about everything drift away until all that was left was his love for Crowley, and the hope that another angel would find his soul mate sooner rather than later.

```````````

Lucifer’s demons attacked three days after the last of Castiel’s grace returned. They broke through the wards that surrounded the property, and quickly surrounded Crowley’s mansion. Lucifer himself stood in front of the doorway. “I know you guys are in there, so really, why prolong the inevitable? Just come out now,” he called out. “Oh, and Crowley, your wards were very impressive, but not much can keep me out.”

Inside Crowley’s panic room (one that outranked Bobby’s by ten), they sat around the table and planned. Or tried to.

“What the hell are we gonna do? We didn’t plan on Lucifer being here!” Crowley hissed.

Aziraphale nodded. “We can’t fight him; not yet. We must leave.”

Castiel shook his head. “We cannot leave without distracting Lucifer. You and Crowley should leave; I will cover you with my grace so he cannot sense it. We shall distract Lucifer until you two are at a safe distance; then I will follow with Sam and Dean.”

Sam nodded and added, “He won’t hurt me, and as much as he wants to, he won’t kill Dean either; he wants to face Michael too bad.”

Dean agreed with Sam. “Yeah, you two get the hell outta dodge and we’ll take care of the Devil.”

Aziraphale stood and pulled Crowley up with him. “You can’t get out of here in that form, dear ; even with Castiel’s grace covering us he’ll sense you leave. You need to change, and I’ll take you out with me.”

Crowley huffed, “I hate doing that! What if I get stuck?” he pouted.

Aziraphale chuckled. “You won’t get stuck, you never do.”

“Fine.” Crowley glanced over at the brothers and smirked. “Hope you boys aren’t scared of ssssnakes.” Then he disappeared, clothes falling in a pile at Aziraphale’s feet.

“Where the hell did he go?”

“What the hell?” exclaimed both brothers.

Aziraphale just smiled and reached into the discarded clothes and pulled out a snake. It was at least four feet long, with black scales and a red underbelly. Its eyes blinked open to reveal yellow orbs with a small black slit in the middle. Its forked tongue flitted out and it hissed, “What the hell are you sssstaring at?”

Aziraphale looked back up. “He was called the Serpent of Eden for a reason, you know.”

Dean just shook his head; he’d seen too many crazy things in his life to get upset over a talking snake. “Just get outta here, alright?”

Aziraphale nodded slightly and spread his wings. “We’ll see all of you soon.” Subtext? Don’t get yourselves killed. Crowley hissed an agreement, and then they were gone.

Dean turned to Sam and Castiel. “Well, let’s go have ourselves a chat with the Devil.”

``````

Lucifer smiled serenely as the Winchester brothers and his youngest brother walked out of Crowley’s house. “Ah, Sam, it’s good to see you again.”

His vessel glared at him, clutching the knife that once belonged to his daughter, Ruby. “I’d rather have never seen you,” he growled.

Lucifer frowned in false hurt. “Why must you say such things, Sam; you know I’d never hurt you.”

Castiel pushed Sam behind him. “Enough of this, Lucifer; neither Sam nor Dean will say yes. Leave this place, brother.”

“I take it you haven’t considered my previous offer then?” He cocked his head at Cas. “I see Aziraphale has recharged you. Tell me, how is our wayward brother?”

“I will never join you, and speak not of Aziraphale, traitor.”

Lucifer laughed. “You’ve grown quite the backbone, little brother; I look forward to snapping it one day.”

Then, with a very familiar snap of fingers, the house behind them exploded, sending shards of glass, wood, and whatever else made up a house flying toward them with deadly force. Castiel grabbed Dean and Sam by their collars and pulled them to him, snapping his wings out from where they had been nestled inside Jimmy’s body. The resulting Light caused the first row of demons to flee their hosts, and the rest of them shied back from the Divine limbs. Castiel gasped in pain as slivers of wood and glass embedded in his feathers. As soon as the shards stopped falling, Castiel shoved Dean and Sam forward.“Kill as many as you can.”

The brothers barely paused when they looked back at Castiel and saw the massive wings unfolding from his back. They had demons to kill, but Dean vowed to try and get a closer look when his life wasn’t in immediate danger. They rushed forward, Sam with the demon killing knife and Dean with Cas’ angel (and demon) killing blade.

Dean was in the middle of slicing some man’s throat when something grabbed a hold of the back of his shirt and threw him backward. He landed with a crash as he hit what was left of Crowley’s house. He looked up to see a man taller than Sam stalk up to him.

“Dean Winchester,” it snarled, “by the time I’m done with you, no angel will ever want to use you as a vessel.” It pulled a wickedly curved knife from inside its bloodstained jacket. A knife that Dean knew from Hell was used to peel the skin off a person layer by layer.

Dean scrambled back until he hit what remained of concrete wall. He had lost Cas’ blade when he was thrown back, so he was weaponless. But just as the demon leaned forward, a hand appeared on its shoulder and twisted the demon around. The demon screamed in agony as a white light glowed from its face as it was burned out of its host. The empty body dropped to the ground, and only Cas stood before Dean.

Castiel looked…well, like an angel. Giant black wings spread from his back and arched over his head, the long flight feathers dripping in blood from felled demons. His whole body glowed, and in that one moment, Dean was truly afraid of Castiel.

The angel stepped over the body, grabbed Dean by the front of his ruined shirt, dragged him to his feet, looked him straight in the eyes with that all encompassing stare of his…then kissed him. Rough, chapped lips pressed against his, and for a moment Dean was frozen before he gave in to his lust and adrenaline and kissed Cas back. It was short and hard, lips pressed against lips for only a moment before Castiel let Dean go and backed away. “We must leave now.”

The next thing Dean knew, he was being bamf’d away.

`````````

It had been quite a while since Castiel had been able to exorcise demons with the touch of his hand, and the angel was enjoying having that particular power back. He was surrounded by a good twenty demons. Grace gathered in one hand, and a knife in the other. He crouched low as the demons pounced, thrusting out a now sharp edged wing and cutting down several demons. Castiel grabbed another, forcing it from its host and dropping the body as he stabbed another through the throat.

Several demons jumped him from behind, trying to get a grip on grace re-enforced feathers. He spread his wings, knocking them off and flapping a few times to get off the ground. He murmured lowly in Enochian, twisting and stabbing and exorcising until only he was left standing.

Cas paused and looked around, finding Sam finishing off a few demons with Ruby’s knife, but no Dean. He spun around, taking in the destruction around him, until he spotted Dean laying in the rubble of Crowley’s house, a large man wielding a fillet knife standing over him.

For a split second, Castiel froze, seeing Dean so close to death. He had always felt something for the hunter, but had never been able to name the elusive emotion until now, feeling fear that Dean was in danger, rage at the demon, and overwhelming grief that Dean was about to be taken away from him. He was…in love.

With that revelation, Cas was standing behind the demon in a second, grabbing it as it started to lean down, and spun it around, unleashing his grace on the hell spawn. It screamed in agony as it was obliterated, and Castiel dropped the body to the ground.

He stepped over the slightly smoking corpse and lifted Dean from the ground by his shirt. He could see the fear in the hunter’s eyes as he took in Castiel’s spread, bloodstained wings. He never wanted to see that in Dean’s eyes when he looked at him. Without really thinking, Castiel leaned in and kissed Dean lightly before pulling away and transporting all three of them to the hotel he could sense Aziraphale in.

Dropping Sam off in a separate room, he appeared on the opposite end of Dean’s room, not wanting to get too close to the hunter in case he was mad. Cas hoped Dean wasn’t; there were many things he wanted to talk to the hunter about, and in Castiel’s mind, none of them involved clothing.

`````````

Dean stared at Castiel from across the motel room. He didn’t know what to do with the angel standing across from him. He had kissed him. Castiel had raised him from the rubble, wings spread and looking like a proper angel, and kissed him. Dean had feelings for the angel; he knew that. At first, it was grudging respect, then friendship, then lust, and now what Dean was scarily certain was love. Dean had never planned on acting on his feelings, had planned to repress and deny to his dying breath.

Dean didn’t care that Cas was a guy; he didn’t even care that Cas was in a body that didn’t even belong to him. It was the fact that Castiel was an angel that kept him from pinning him to a wall and ravishing him. Castiel was an angel. Dean was ex-torturer of Hell, and human, and male (last he checked the Bible wasn’t all that keen on homosexuality). Dean’s soul was scarred and tarnished, and he was probably bound for Hell no matter how many Apocalypses he stopped.

Cas took a step toward him. “You forget I can still read your mind, Dean.”

Dean flinched back. “Cas…”

Cas came forward. “Do you still not believe you deserve to be saved?” He cocked his head. “Love is no sin, Dean.”

Dean shook his head, backing up until he ran into the wall behind him.“You can’t love me, Cas, you can’t.”

Cas kept coming until he was face to face with Dean, and the hunter had no way to escape. “Why not? I pulled your soul from Hell, Dean; I know all its flaws. I rebuilt your body; I know every crease of skin and freckle. I left my mark on you, Dean; not just on your skin, but on your very essence. When I cradled you between my wings, I was enthralled with you. I lost control, Dean; for a moment I did not think of you as Michael’s vessel. My grace reached out for you, and now you bear my mark,” he said, bringing a hand up to brush along the handprint seared into Dean’s shoulder.

Sparks of pleasure, grace, and love raced through Dean at the brief contact. “Cas…” he sighed, “I’ve lost everything I’ve ever loved. Mom, Dad, Sam…I can’t be with you and let you go. I wouldn’t survive.”

“Where would I go?” Cas whispered into Dean’s cheek as he leaned into the hunter. “I’ve been barred from Heaven.”

Dean shook his head. “But once it’s over. Once we’ve found Michael and stopped all this. You could go back; Michael would let you go back, and you know he would.”

“I would refuse. If Michael was to ask me to return, I would refuse, Dean. I would not leave you. I love you.”

Hearing those words from Cas caused Dean to crumble. Cas didn’t lie. Couldn’t lie. He would stay with Dean. Cas did love him. Dean turned his head and slid his mouth over Castiel’s, sucking and nipping at the angel’s lips until Cas caught on and opened for him. Dean’s tongue slipped in, caressing Cas’, and urged the other to kiss him back. When Cas finally kissed back, slipped his tongue shyly into Dean’s mouth, Dean groaned and pulled Cas to him, deepening the kiss and threading one hand through Cas’ unruly hair.

He pulled back when he ran out of air. “Want you,” he panted. “Want you so bad.” He tugged at Cas’ trench coat, pulling it from the angel’s frame.

“Yes, Dean. Yes.” Cas’ inexperienced fingers fumbled with Dean’s shirts, wanting more of the body housing that glorious soul.

“Bed!” Dean gasped as he attacked Cas’ neck with teeth and tongue. He pushed Cas back until they toppled over onto the closest bed. Dean groaned as his erection pressed against Cas’. “So hot…” he mumbled as he sat up over his angel, taking in the thoroughly debauched looking Castiel. With his trench and suit coat gone, the angel was smaller framed than Dean, with slender hips that fit perfectly between Dean’s thighs.

Dean grabbed the half undone blue tie and pulled it from around Castiel’s neck, fingers attacking the small buttons on the dress shirt before the tie even hit the ground. He spread the shirt open, splaying his hands over Castiel’s pale chest. The angel’s skin was flawless, slender muscles rippling under Dean’s fingers, and small, pink nipples hardening in the cool motel air. Dean ran a finger down the middle of his chest, dipping into Cas’ bellybutton before scratching lightly over the trail of hair beginning just under it.

“Cas, can I?” he asked, resting his hand over the angel’s belt. When the angel nodded, Dean unbuckled it and slid it out, dropping it to land next to the discarded tie. Dean popped the button open and pulled the zipper down, catching a glimpse of black boxers and the bulge they covered. He swallowed hard and eased the slacks and boxers down Cas’ hips and legs, letting them fall to the floor.

Cas leaned up and slipped out of his shirt, leaving him naked as Dean loomed over him fully clothed. “I believe you should undress as well,” he whispered, tugging on the corner of Dean’s over shirt.

Dean smiled and shucked the shirt off, then pulled the t-shirt over his head. “Is this better?” Dean whispered back.

Cas smiled. “Not quite.”

Dean chuckled lowly and undid his pants, sliding off of Cas briefly to slide the denim and cotton down his legs, leaving him just as naked as Castiel. He returned to his place straddling Cas’ hips. He leaned down and kissed Cas hard as their hard cocks dragged against each other.

Dean kissed and nipped his way down Cas’ neck, leaving a line of small, red love bites in his wake. When he reached Cas’ nipples, he darted his tongue out to lick over one hard bud.

Cas gasped and arched up into Dean’s mouth, hands shooting up to bury his fingers into Dean’s hair. He felt Dean smile against his chest, then moaned in pleasure as Dean bit gently down on his flesh. “Oh, Dean!”

Dean chuckled, then attacked the other side, licking and nibbling until both nipples were bright red. He kissed his way down Cas’ chest, dipping his tongue into the angel’s bellybutton (he got a small giggle at that, something he’d explore later) before he was level with Castiel’s cock.

It was as long as Dean’s and as slender as the rest of the angel. The flushed head peeked out of the foreskin and glistened temptingly with pre come. Dean licked his lips and wrapped his hand around the base, pulling it up from where it laid on Castiel’s stomach toward his mouth. Dean hadn’t given a lot of blowjobs; he tended to be on the receiving of them instead. But he couldn’t resist taking that hot cock into his mouth.

He wrapped his lips around the head, sucking and licking at the slit and tearing a moan from Castiel. He slid his mouth down until he could bury his nose in the coarse black hairs at the base and swallowed around the length in his throat. The hand that wasn’t gripping Cas’ hip wandered up to fondle the angel’s balls, rolling and squeezing them, producing sounds from Cas that no angel should make.

“Dean, Dean, Dean!” he chanted, gasping at the wet heat that surrounded his flesh. “Want more, want you in…inside me!”

Dean groaned and pulled Cas’ cock out of his throat. “Are you sure? You’ve never…”

Cas nodded, “I’m sure.” He wrapped his hand around the back of Dean’s neck and pulled him up for a kiss that was more tongue than lips. “I want you to make love to me, Dean.”

Dean smiled and kissed Castiel gently. “’K then.” He pushed up and reached over to grab the lube he always kept in the bedside table. He popped the cap and squirted some of the cool gel over his fingers, rubbing them together to warm it slightly. Dean kneeled back between Cas’ thighs, pushing his legs open to reveal the small entrance to the angel’s body. Dean reached down and rubbed a fingertip over the hole, massaging the tight muscle.

Cas threw his head back against the pillow and groaned, “Dean! Please, more! You can’t hurt me that easily.”

Dean nodded, biting his lip and pushed his finger past the tight ring and into the heat that was Castiel’s body. Dean’s finger slid in up to the second knuckle, and he crooked it, dragging the tip over sensitive tissue. He pumped it in and out a few times before lining up his middle finger and pushing it in slowly. He pumped them in and out, twisted and scissored them until he felt that small bundle of nerves and pressed his fingers into it.

Castiel arched up off the bed, moaning Dean’s name and wrapping his legs around Dean’s shoulders as pleasure shot up his spine and caused his cock to twitch and leak. “More! Dean, more; it’s not enough!” he gasped.

“Shh,” Dean soothed and pulled his fingers free. Cas whimpered, and Dean rubbed his hip soothingly as he slicked up his cock. He braced himself with one arm as he positioned his hard cock at Cas’ slick hole. He pushed in slowly, both to ensure he didn’t cause his angel any unneeded pain and to savor the hot drag of Castiel surrounding his cock.

Buried to the hilt inside Castiel, Dean panted into his angel’s neck, “Won’t last long, too wound up.”

“Me either,” Cas gasped. He canted his hips up, tearing a feral sounding growl from Dean’s throat.

“Gonna fuck you Cas, gonna fuck you so hard,” Dean panted and raised himself up. He hitched Castiel’s legs up until one was draped over his shoulder and the other was wrapped tight around his waist. Dean pulled out until only the head remained inside Cas, then slammed back in, drawing a shriek from his angel.

“Again!”

Dean grunted and slammed his hips into Cas’, forcing his cock in as deep as it would go. Dean continued like that, pulling out, and then slamming back in until all he could feel was the hot drag of Castiel wrapped around him and the pleasure-pain of his hips crashing into the angel’s. He wasn’t going to last much longer; he could already feel his orgasm building.

Cas moaned as Dean’s rhythm faltered and shuddered as the head of Dean’s cock nudged his prostate on each thrust. He reached down and grasped his cock, jerking it as he’d seen thousands of humans do. After only a few pulls of his hand, Castiel felt his balls draw up close to his body, and he was coming, white strands of come shooting across his chest and Dean’s belly as his body shuddered with his release.

Dean lost it when he felt Cas come; watching his angel throw his head back in ecstasy as he jerked himself off and feeling Castiel’s muscles clench around his cock was all Dean could take. He shuddered and moaned as his dick twitched and released its load inside Cas’ body. Dean collapsed onto Castiel’s chest as the last waves of his orgasm wracked his body.

They stayed like that for what seemed like hours, lying together with Castiel’s drying come between them, before Dean mustered enough energy to slowly pull out and roll to his side. He dragged Cas close and nuzzled his neck. “That was…spectacular.”

Cas sighed in contentment and nodded against Dean’s hair. “Yes, you are very good at this.”

Dean chuckled sleepily. “Weren’t too bad yourself.” He tucked himself into Castiel’s side. “Gonna sleep now,’k? Love you.”

Cas smiled into Dean’s hair. “Sleep well; I shall watch over you.” He ran a hand down Dean’s back. “I love you too he whispered to the sleeping hunter before settling in to walk his beloved’s dreams

````````````  
For the first time in what seemed like forever, Dean woke from a nightmare free sleep feeling completely rested. Of course, the angel he’d dreamed about might have had something to do with it. Dean stretched and cracked his eyes open, squinting at the light streaming in from the cheap hotel blinds. He was surprised when his sleep-addled brain registered a weight laying against his side. Dean looked over and had to smile when he saw Cas curled up into his side. The angel’s hair was even more messy than usual, sticking up in a million different directions. Dean turned to his side, pulling the covers up around the both of them, the dark purple comforter a stark contrast to Castiel’s pale skin.

The angel twitched, sighing and snuggling closer to Dean. “I think I enjoy sleeping,” he murmured.

Dean laughed lightly and ran a hand through Castiel’s sleep and sex mussed hair. “Good, we should do it more often.” Preferably together, after sex. Dean wrapped his arms around Cas’ waist and pulled him into his body. “Don’t wanna get up,” he groaned into Castiel’s neck.

Cas cupped the back of Dean’s head and laid a gentle kiss on Dean’s shoulder. “I’m afraid we must.” He pulled back from Dean, sitting up and revealing his still naked body as the covers fell back.

Dean didn’t get to stare for long though because with a thought, Castiel was dressed and looking expectantly at Dean. He sighed and slid out of bed, gathering up his clothing from where he had dropped them the night before. “So where did you stash Sam last night?” he asked as he pulled on his boxers and jeans. Dean didn’t particularly like wearing yesterday’s clothing, but both of the brothers’ bags had been in Crowley’s house. At least his t-shirt was relatively clean.

“He is in the room next to us; I believe Aziraphale and Crowley are there as well.”

“Great, looks like it’s back to business then.” While Dean wanted to stop the Apocalypse and send Lucifer back to his hell hole, he really wanted to spend a little more time with Castiel, exploring the new facet of their relationship…thoroughly. “Hey, Cas, how did you get your grace back? I meant to ask earlier but…” he trailed off with a shrug.

Castiel smiled. “Aziraphale joined his grace to mine. It gave me enough grace to boost the natural healing.”

Joining graces? “That sounds…intimate.”

Cas nodded, oblivious to Dean’s growing jealously. “Oh, it is; joining graces is one of the highest forms of affection for angels.” 

Dean was about to reply when they heard a crash from the next room…the room where Sam was staying. Dean darted out the door and was standing in Sam’s doorway before Castiel had time to bamf them there.

“Sam, what’s going on?” Dean asked as he stared at his enraged brother and the glaring demon across from him. There was a broken lamp on the floor that Dean guessed was the cause for the crash.

“Crowley here knows why Lucifer found us. Why don’t you tell Dean what you told me, Crowley? See how he takes it,” Sam sneered.

Dean turned to glare at Crowley, who by now was trying to disappear into one of Aziraphale’s wings. “What did you do?” he growled.

“Nothing! One of my contacts must have told Lucifer where we were! It’s the only explanation of how he got through my wards. Don’t blame me!” Crowley hissed at them.

Dean stalked forward and grabbed Crowley by the front of his black button down and pulled him away from Aziraphale “If I find out you double crossed us, not even Aziraphale will be able to stop me from killing you, you understand.”

Said angel, who didn’t like his mate in the clutches of the pissed off hunter, pushed Dean away from Crowley. “While he may be a demon, you can trust him. I have known him for six thousand years; if you won’t trust him trust me.” He glared at Dean. “And never lay your hands on my mate like that again.”

Dean glared but backed away. “Fine, but remember what I said, Crowley, cause I mean it.”

Aziraphale nodded. “Now, if we’re done with the threats, we still have problems to sort out.” He sat on the still made bed. “The ritual is useless without the archangels, and there is no way around that. Despite what I said earlier, I believe now that our only chance to stop this is to find Michael.”

Cas stepped forward. “There are summoning rituals for Michael, but if he is masquerading as human, I do not know if they will work.”

“But we can try, right? He is still an angel, isn’t he?” Sam asked hopefully from his position leaning against the rickety motel table.

Cas nodded hesitantly. “I will gather what we need.” With a flap of his wings he was gone.

``````````````

Castiel and Dean stood before the ring of Holy fire. “Dean, I can feel the jealously coming off of you in waves.”

Dean looked up as he stopped spreading the various herbs that were required to summon Michael. “I’m not jealous!” he exclaimed.

Cas tilted his head. “Was it what I said about joining graces with Aziraphale?” He watched as Dean shifted uncomfortably. “Dean, angels are genderless; the love I feel for you is very different from what I feel for Aziraphale. It’s like you and Sam; you would do anything for each other.” He knelt by Dean and kissed him lightly. “I love you.”

Dean smiled into the kiss. “I love you too.” He broke away and grinned. “Now, let’s summon ourselves a human archangel.” Dean got to his feet and backed away as Castiel started to chant lowly in Enochian. The light breeze picked up and scattered the herbs as an ethereal light began to gather in the middle of the circle.

Just as Dean thought the light was going to come together to form Michael, the wind died down and the light dissipated. Castiel stopped chanting, and his shoulders slumped in disappointment. “I did not think it would work.”

Dean sighed and clapped him on the shoulder. “We tried; that’s all that counts.” Then he caught something in the corner of his eye, and he turned to look at it, spotting a small, thin trail of light leading out of the field behind the motel they were using. He smiled. “I take that back Cas; all is not lost!”

Castiel looked behind him, his eyes widened in shock. “It’s a trail of grace! We didn’t summon Michael, but part of his grace came anyway. I’m not sure how you can see it, but it means we can find him!”

Dean grinned and pulled Cas to him. “About time something went right for us.” Then he sealed his mouth to Cas’ and kissed him long and hard.

``````````````

Unknown to the couple, hovering just out of sight and concealed by magics older than time, was Lucifer. He dropped to the ground in shock, wrapping his tattered wings around himself. “Michael is…human?”

```````````````

Sam, Aziraphale, and Crowley followed Dean and Castiel out to the field. Sam looked around, trying to see what the others were clearly staring at, but could only see an empty field. “So…what exactly are we supposed to be looking at?”

Dean rocked back on his heels and ran his eyes across the ground. “When we tried to summon Michael, part of his grace came and kind of stretched out, making a trail for us to follow.”

“Why can you see it?” Sam asked. Dean was more human than he was; it didn’t make sense that he could see an angel’s grace without being hurt.

Cas answered instead. “I believe it has something to do with the fact that Dean is Michael’s vessel. He has a connection to Michael.”

Dean grumbled but agreed. “Yeah, probably has something to do with that. Which means we need to find him.” In Dean’s opinion, that meant they needed to leave as soon as possible.

They didn’t leave that night despite Dean’s protest, instead agreeing to leave first thing in the morning. Castiel had been the one to get Dean to calm down, giving him puppy dog eyes that Dean was sure Sam had taught the angel.

Dean fell back onto his bed with a thump, staring up at the ceiling moodily, pouting in a way that he would deny to his last breath. When the bed dipped beside him, he turned to stare at Cas, who had stretched out beside him, wearing just his shirt and pants.

“I know you didn’t want to stay here, Dean, but we are all exhausted.” Cas also wanted to spend another night alone with his hunter. He sighed. “I’m not sure we’ll make it out of this intact, and I want to spend all the time with you I can.” He leaned his head on Dean’s shoulder, hand tracing up and down the veins in Dean’s arm lightly.

Dean sighed. “I just want all this over. I want to live my life without angels breathing down my neck.” He turned over and propped himself up, leaning over Cas. “Except you; you can breathe down my neck anytime,” he murmured.

Cas made a happy noise and reached up, nuzzling Dean’s neck, nipping and sucking the skin. “Like this?” He breathed out, causing Dean to shiver.

“Yeah, just like that.”

``````````````````

Sammael was one of the only Fallen that was still close to Lucifer. He was his second, acting in Lucifer’s place when his leader would rather reminisce about his days in Heaven than command the Legion. That was why it amused him when humanity thought he and Lucifer were the same being (it also flattered him; being mistaken for the great Lucifer was quite the compliment). 

He was also the best tracker in all of Heaven and Hell. Angel, demon, or other supernatural creature, it didn’t matter what it was; Sammael could track it. That was why Lucifer had summoned him now. He appeared outside the house they had been using as a base; it had belonged to a nice satanic couple. They were currently locked in the basement trying to come to terms with the fact that Lucifer was in their house.

“You want me to find who?” Sammael nearly shrieked. He was seriously wondering if Lucifer’s time on earth had made him insane.

“No need to yell, Sammael, and you heard me just fine,” Lucifer grumbled.

Sammael paced in front of him. “You want me to find Michael? Michael, the one angel who can still obliterate me?”

Lucifer rolled his eyes. “As I said, Michael is human now; I doubt he goes around smiting people.” Sammael would take the job; he had never turned Lucifer down, and there was no way he was looking for Michael himself. Just knowing the archangel was on earth brought back memories. Memories of laughing blue eyes and being wrapped in huge white wings.

Sammael sighed and sat down across from Lucifer. “Will I run into anymore of our brothers, maybe a couple of human vessels?”

Lucifer smiled thinly. “Probably. I doubt Castiel would leave a lead like this unsearched.”

Sammael sighed again and bowed. “I shall report back when I find him.” Then, unfolding steel grey wings, he disappeared.

Lucifer continued to smile, lost in memories of eons past.

````````````````````

The Impala flew down the Highway with a grumpy Dean behind the wheel, a miserable Sam beside him, and a sulking Crowley in the backseat. Dean and Crowley had gotten into a massive fight before they had left, Dean demanding that since Crowley had wings he could make use of them flying with Aziraphale and Castiel. Crowley had protested, saying someone needed to stay with them, ‘keeping the idiot humans out of harm’s way.’ Eventually Dean had given in, stalking out and grumbling about ‘not getting scales on the upholstery.’

Sam was miserable from lack of sleep. Kept awake with nightmares and fear of more, Sam had tossed and turned all night, eventually giving up around four in the morning. He kept nodding off in the car, but was jerked awake by the rough road. The last time, a low moan broke free of his throat as his muscles protested the movement.

Dean watched his brother in concern. He had caught the sound and had noticed just how bad his little brother looked. There were dark bags under expressionless eyes, and there was a sickly pallor to his skin despite his tan. “Sammy? You okay?”

Sam slid tired eyes to Dean and smiled listlessly. “I’m fine Dean, just tired.”

Dean shook his head. “Don’t lie to me, Sammy; you’ve been like this since Gabriel died.” He furrowed his brow in confusion when Sam flinched back at the mention of the dead archangel. “Sam, did something happen between you and Gabriel?” Dean knew the two had grown close, always together when the archangel occasionally dropped in to annoy them.

Sam looked away. “No, nothing happened.” Lucifer had seen to that.

Dean reached over and squeezed Sam’s shoulder. “Take a nap, little brother; I’ll guard your dreams.”

Sam smiled sleepily. Dean hadn’t said that since Sam was thirteen. “Wake me when we’re there, Dean.” he murmured, then slid into sleep, trusting his brother to keep him safe.

Dean sighed and smacked the steering wheel. He knew what was wrong with his little brother. He’d seen the same thing happen with Sarah and Madison. Sammy was in love. And just like the other times, their life had torn Sam’s chance of happiness away.

“You know Gabriel will be back, don’t you?” Crowley asked from the back.

Dean looked at Crowley from the rearview mirror. “Yeah, but still, the man he loves died; that takes a toll on you.”

Crowley grimaced; he had too many memories of holding Aziraphale’s lifeless body in his arms, brain knowing the angel would be back, but his heart breaking. “I know. But still, you’re both lucky; your angels will come back to you, and when you die, your souls will go to Heaven.” Yes, they were lucky. They’d be with their angels even after Armageddon. Crowley wouldn’t.

Dean’s cell broke the silence, and they both sighed in relief. Dean flipped it open. “Hello?”

“Dean, we have found Michael.”

“That’s great, Cas!”

“Yes. We are in a town called Pleasure Falls. It is about twenty minutes from where you are.”

Dean grinned into the phone. “We’ll meet you there then.”

“We shall meet you at the Diner. Hurry, Dean. I fear we have been followed.”

````````````````

Several states over, in an abandoned motel, a funnel of light shot from the sky, slicing through the roof and slamming into the floor. Swirling and twisting, the light started to take shape, coalescing into a vaguely body shaped thing. Bones formed from the light, then organs, muscles, and skin. The naked thing—now a man—arched his back off the floor, and an inhuman scream ripped from his throat, shattering all the glass within a mile. The lines of ash that surrounded him blew across the floor, shimmering in the light as fresh, new, copper colored wings sprouted from his back, fluttering lightly in the unnatural breeze. The scream ceased, and he slumped back to the floor, and he gasped for breath.

A single word rasped from new vocal chords.

“Sam.”

````````````````````````

The angels had popped into the back of the Impala as they crossed into Paradise Fall’s city limits. Dean cursed at the intrusion but had gotten so used to Cas doing it that he no longer jerked the wheel. After waking Sam, who grumbled about waking from the most restful sleep he’d had in weeks, they drove through town, Dean following the trail of grace that weaved right through town. They pulled up outside a small townhouse, the trail of grace leading right through the front door.

“This is it?” Dean asked, arching an eyebrow. It didn’t look like a place a powerful archangel would settle.

“Yes. The grace stops here,” Cas said. Someone needed to teach the angel about rhetorical questions.

Dean shrugged and threw open his door. “Who’s coming with me?”

Aziraphale slipped out of the car as well. “Perhaps I should go; as far as I know, I was the last angel to see him.”

Dean and the angel walked up to the door, and Aziraphale knocked lightly. The house was completely dark, and Dean was about to tell Aziraphale that no one was home, and that this was a waste of time, when the door swung open, and they were faced with the business end of a nasty looking sword.

Aziraphale pushed Dean behind him and raised his hands, backing away slowly. “Michael? Is that you? It’s Aziraphale. We were wondering if we could talk to you, dear.”

````````````````

Michael was surprisingly normal looking. He had short, blonde hair, bright blue eyes, and was as tall as Sam and as muscular as Dean. He wore ragged jeans and a faded AC/DC t-shirt and a pair of red Converse that had seen better days. Michael still held the sword he had pointed at Aziraphale and Dean, but now he twirled it in his hands with the ease of someone who had held one for years.

“No!” Michael snapped, slamming his sword into the floor, burying the blade three inches into his floor.

“But—“ Aziraphale started, cut off when Michael shot from his chair, glaring at the group amassed on his couch.

“No, Aziraphale. I will not fight Lucifer; not again.”

Aziraphale leaned towed Michael. “I know that. I was there; I remember you after the War. I would never ask you to fight him. We need your help; you’re the only one who can stop this.”

Michael sighed and sat back down, flicking the grey feather that hung from the hilt of his sword. “Do you know why I left Heaven? Because while I wanted to grieve, everyone else wanted to celebrate. Angels would come up to me, thanking me for striking Lucifer down. I wanted to grieve over the loss of my mate, but would they let me? No.”

“Please, Michael; Heaven is in chaos! Uriel has been obliterated, Zachariah is ordering the archs, and Raphael actually smote Castiel! The youngest, Michael; when I was up there, no one dared to harm the youngest!”

Michael went still and stared at Castiel. “Raphael…smote you? The Healer is smiting people?”

Castiel bowed his head and nodded, causing Michael to curse and flinch back. “Fine; I’ll straighten Heaven out, and I’ll try to talk to Lucifer.” Then, for the first time in twenty years, he unleashed his grace, letting his four white wings unfold and settle on his back, feathers ruffled from disuse. “This has gone on long enough.”

```````````

Sammael leaned against the Impala as he listened to the conversation inside with supernatural hearing. He was cloaked with the strongest and oldest magicks he could find, invisible to all inside. Sammael frowned as he heard just what was happening in Heaven. He remembered Raphael; he was one of the only angels who hadn’t fought in the War. It seemed the gentle Healer Sammael remembered had gone a bit insane. As for Zachariah, Sammael always thought that little shrew should have Fallen with the rest of them. He flew off when he felt Michael’s grace unfold; no magicks could hide him from that Archangel.

He landed back outside the same house as before, landing in front of the door and knocking once before walking on in. “They found Michael.”

Lucifer was sprawled across the window bench, a large white flight feather in his hands that Sammael strongly suspected belonged to Michael. “I know.” Lucifer had always been able to feel Michael’s grace; it was part of the Mating bond they had had.

“Michael has agreed to take back control of Heaven; he’s also coming to find you.” Sammael watched as Lucifer just nodded. That wasn’t what he had been expecting. But then again, he’d never understood the relationship between the two archangels.

Lucifer looked over at Sammael. “You can go now. I’ll call if I need you again.”

Sammael sighed and bowed, then disappeared, leaving Lucifer alone in his thoughts.

````````````````````````

Dean and Castiel sat on Michael’s porch as they waited for the archangel to tie up the loose ends of his human life. Sam was helping, putting his years at Stanford to good use, while Aziraphale and Crowley had disappeared.

Cas was jumpy, always looking around as if watching for someone to attack him, and had draped one wing over Dean protectively. “I felt a presence; it was brief, but it felt like one of the Fallen,” he explained to Dean, who was entertaining himself by flicking the feathers closest to him.

“I thought we were hidden from other angels?” Dean asked, remembering the lines of Enochian engraved on their ribs.

“You and Sam are, but Aziraphale, Crowley, and I are not. If a Fallen has found us, Lucifer will not be far behind.”

Dean raised his eyebrows in surprise. “Are you saying we have a third of Heaven after us?” He may not be religious but Dean had read the Bible.

Cas shook his head. “After they Fell, many of the Fallen turned their back on Lucifer; only a few stayed loyal to him. I don’t know which ones though.”

Dean nudged Cas and wrapped an arm underneath Cas’ wings, pulling the angel closer to him. “Don’t look so angsty about it; we can deal with anything they throw our way.” he reassured Cas.

Cas smiled and huffed in amusement. “I’m sure you can, Dean.” He twined their fingers together and squeezed, content for the moment to just sit with Dean.

```````````````

They left just after dusk, leaving Michael’s house and all his possessions behind. All the archangel had brought with him were the clothes on his back, dead set on coming back to his house one day soon. Michael drove his old pickup truck, not wanting to ride with Sam and Dean and not feeling comfortable enough to fly with his brothers and Crowley.

Michael had no idea what he was doing. Yeah, he was going back to Heaven and was planning on kicking some serious ass, but Lucifer? Michael had no clue what he was going to do there. As far as he knew, Lucifer hated him as much as he hated the rest of the family, perhaps more, considering Michael had been the one to cast him out of Heaven. He slammed his hand against the steering wheel and cursed. What the hell had he gotten himself into?

“You shouldn’t worry so much, dear; it’s bad for your health.”

Michael jerked in surprise as Aziraphale appeared in the passenger seat. “Don’t do that!”

“Sorry, but really, don’t worry so much. You’re acting like he hates you.”

Michael snorted. “You do remember who struck him down, right? He has more reasons to hate me than he does anyone else.” He sighed. “I wouldn’t blame him either.”

Aziraphale shook his head. “I remember seeing you two together, even before anyone knew about the mating; I don’t think he could ever hate you.”

Michael scoffed. “I appreciate your confidence in me, brother, but Hell warps a person. You know that.”

“You’ll succeed, Michael; I have faith you will.” Aziraphale smiled at him, then disappeared, returning to Crowley and Castiel.

“I’m not sure I have faith in myself,” Michael whispered to the empty air.

```````````````

They found a small motel in the middle of nowhere, Nebraska, surrounded by fields two days later. As soon as they were settled, Michael dragged Castiel, Dean, and Sam into one of the fields. “If I bring Zachariah down here, he’s gonna bring half of Heaven with him. You may have fought against angels before, but not like this.

He stopped in front of Castiel. “Can you summon your sword?” he asked. Michael would need Castiel as backup when he went for Zachariah, and while he could use his short sword, Michael would be more comfortable if Castiel had his true blade with him.

Castiel nodded and stepped away from Michael, concentrating on the part of his grace that kept his sword hidden. He pulled it forward and the blade materialized in his hand, drawing gasps and curses of surprise from the Winchesters.

Castiel’s sword was a Claymore, over four feet long and a blade made of ice. An angel’s sword reflected their element and season. Michael and Gabriel had swords of fire, while Raphael and Lucifer had blades of air. Castiel’s element was water and his season was winter, therefore, his blade was ice. An angel’s blade didn’t just kill either. If struck down with one, your soul was obliterated, never to enter Heaven or Hell.

“Damn, Cas! That thing’s wicked looking!” Dean exclaimed, watching the sword in awe. “Why haven’t you used it before?” That thing would have come in handy during some of the hunts Castiel had accompanied the brothers on.

“After I rebelled, I did not have enough grace to summon it. I prefer not using it anyway, unless it is absolutely necessary,” Cas said, bringing the sword up so he could examine it. The blade was the same color of his eyes, one thing that he and Jimmy had in common. You could see through it, giving it a glassy appearance. It was cold to the touch, and would give any mortal who touched it a nasty case of frostbite. Enochian symbols were etched up across the hilt, and Castiel’s name was engraved in Enochian down the blade. Cas looked up at Michael. “You wish to spar?”

Michael smirked and summoned his own sword. The blade was longer than Castiel’s by at least a foot and orange flames danced up and down the blood red blade. It was the same sword Michael had threatened Dean and Aziraphale with, only sharper, longer, and much more deadly. “Ready, little brother?”

Cas slipped into his fighting stance and nodded. Michael unfolded his wings and launched himself at Cas, who spread his own wings and shot up into the air. Dean and Sam watched from the ground as the two angels sparred, Michael holding slightly back as he had more power than Castiel. They fought for hours, until Michael was satisfied with Castiel’s skill and the two angels landed next to the brothers.

“We’ll do this until we face Zachariah. Tomorrow it’s you and Sam. I know you’ve been using Castiel’s short sword, but this will be different: not just one or two angels, but ten or twenty.” Michael banished his sword and sighed. “Meet me here first thing in the morning.”

````````````

Three weeks passed before Michael deemed them ready to take on Zachariah. Dean was beyond glad, as nothing their father had put them through as kids had been so rigorous. He hurt in places he didn’t know he had. But now he could take down at least two fully powered angels. Sam could throw Castiel across the field with his mind, something that almost scared Dean. But Castiel, on the other hand, was ten times more bad ass than he had ever been.

Dean watched in awe as Cas gracefully blocked and ducked Michael’s sword at every turn. They used their wings to bat each other out of the sky, feathers and grace combining to turn the wings into deadly weapons. When Cas nearly knocked Michael unconscious, the archangel picked himself off the ground and folded his wings away, motioning for Castiel to land as well.

“I believe that’s as good as you’re gonna get,“ Michael huffed as he cracked his back and wiped a spot of blood off his chin. “At this rate, you could take on Zachariah by yourself.” He clapped Cas on the back. “Two days. Two days to rest and prepare; then I summon Zachariah.”

As the Winchesters gladly limped their way back to the motel, Michael asked Cas to stay behind. He sat cross-legged on the ground and motioned for Cas to join him. “Someone has been watching us. ,” he said casually, plucking a strand of grass and twirling it between his fingers.

“I know. I believe it is the same angel I felt when we first found you,” Cas told Michael, absentmindedly fiddling with a loose thread on his shirtsleeve. “It felt like one of the Fallen.”

Michael nodded. “I believe Lucifer is having us followed; if he is, there’s a good chance Sammael is the one we’ve been sensing. I asked Aziraphale and Crowley to keep watch for us.”

“I do not believe I know much about Sammael.” Heaven was tight lipped about the Fallen, and they were one thing new angels didn’t know much about.

“Sammael was close to Lucifer and me, before the Fall. He was one of the first created after us Archangels. He was a tracker, could find anyone in time. When Lucifer rebelled, Sammael was right with him, his second in command, and that never changed, not even after all the others turned their backs on Lucifer.”

“Then Lucifer more than likely knows of our plans to stop him.”

Michael sighed. “Yes, and the fact that he hasn’t done anything about it is worrying me more than if he had.”

```````````````

Later that night, Michael lay in bed, on the verge of falling asleep, when Sammael shimmered into existence at the end of his bed. “Twenty years as a human did nothing to your fighting skills, Michael.”

Michael shot off the bed and had his sword in hand. “What do you want, Sammael?”

“I heard you and our little brother talking about me earlier. Castiel is quite the angel; I had the strongest magicks concealing me at your home.”

“Is Lucifer with you?” Why else would Sammael show himself?

Sammael shook his head. “No, he doesn’t know I’m even talking with you right now. But you were right, he does know of your plans, and for some reason he’s not going to stop you,” he said, perching on one of the table chairs. “I never have understood the two of you.”

“What do you mean?” Michael asked defensively.

Sammael leaned forward. “How can you still love him after all this? What is so special about Lucifer? My mate certainly doesn’t still care for me.” No, his mate would rather kill him than so much as speak to him.

Michael scoffed. “Isra hates you because you didn’t just leave her, you left your fledgling as well. As for whatever is still between me and Lucifer, it’s none of your concern. Now leave.” He infused enough of his grace and power behind the order that Sammael wouldn’t dare disobey.

Michael slumped back on the bed when Sammael disappeared. There went his restful night.

``````````

Sammael wasn’t the only angel watching the group that night. Perched on the edge of Sam’s bed sat Gabriel. He wasn’t truly there; he was still too weak to fly himself to Sam’s side. Instead, he projected himself into the young hunter’s dreams, keeping Sam sleeping soundly and safe. Nothing would harm Sam while Gabriel was with him; he would make sure of that.

```````````

Lucifer watched the sky from the roof of the new house he had taken over. Soon, this sky would be filled with Heaven’s armies. Brothers fighting Brothers once more as Michael attempted to regain control from Zachariah. He half hoped Michael would send the little roach to Hell; it would bring him great pleasure to lock Zachariah in his cage. Then, after Michael took back his place among the Host—there was no doubt in Lucifer’s mind that Michael would win—he’d start looking for Lucifer. But Lucifer wouldn’t face his brother here; no, it would all end where it was supposed to.

``````````  
Two days later, they stood in a field far away from any humans that could end up as casualties. Dean and Sam had set up next to a small shed, an angel banishing sigil etched into the wood. They would only use it if one of them were about to be killed, as it would also banish Cas, Michael, and Aziraphale.

The three angels stood in a line not far from the Winchesters. (Crowley had decided not to come; he liked to play it safe.) A ring of holy fire was in front of them, as they were hoping to trap Zachariah in it before he called any angels down.

Sword drawn, Michael chanted lowly in Enochian, watching the holy flames flicker in front of him. He watched for a sign of Zachariah’s grace and frowned as nothing happened. Low laughter from behind him made him spin around.

“Really, Michael, summoning me? Did you honestly believe that would work?” Zachariah asked scornfully from where he had appeared behind the angels, effectively cutting them off from Dean and Sam should Zachariah decide to attack them.

“Last time I checked, I was still your superior, Zachariah,” Michael growled.

Zachariah scoffed. “You’re no one’s superior, Michael; not since you joined the monkeys. Had it been up to me, I would have stripped you of your grace.” He smiled cruelly. “Maybe done to you what we did to young Castiel.”

Castiel flinched, and Michael stepped forward threateningly. “You have overstepped many lines, Zachariah, trying to bring about Armageddon.”

“But I’m only doing the Will of God,” Zachariah said mockingly. 

“The only Will you are following is your own. It’s time someone showed you your place.”

Zachariah laughed. “You and what army?” He clapped his hands and a multitude of angels appeared, surrounding the small group. “I have all of Heaven on my side; all you have is a couple of monkeys and two damned angels.”

Michael gripped his sword, flames leaping up the blade. Castiel and Aziraphale drew theirs as well, Aziraphale’s being the same flaming sword he’d had and lost before. Michael lunged at Zachariah, cursing as he disappeared and reappeared across the field. “You won’t get away with this, Zachariah. I’ll personally see to that.”

Castiel blocked the blades of two of his former garrison brothers. “Why do you follow Zachariah? Can’t you see he’s wrong?” Castiel asked between strikes.

“You have been poisoned by the humans, Castiel; you can no longer see what is right or wrong,” one angel spat at him.

Castiel sighed and kicked the angel back, driving his blade through his shoulder. As the angel fell, he turned to the other, a sister he had served many missions with. “Zafrial, please; I don’t want to fight you!” He never wanted to fight any of his brothers and sisters.

Zafrial just glared at him before swinging her sword at his head. Castiel ducked and sliced her belly open. “I’m sorry, sister.” He turned to walk away and was knocked to the ground by a fist. Castiel looked up to see Zachariah standing above him.

“Long time no see, Castiel. Michael’s gotten a bit distracted, so I thought I’d come chat with you.” He smiled, pointing his head where Michael was apparently fighting Raphael. “Raphael had a few choice words with Michael.”

Castiel got to his feet and readied himself for Zachariah’s attack. But he just smiled at Castiel and continued to talk. “I see you’ve mated with Dean. I warned you he would be your downfall; now look at you, killing your own garrison.”

“Do not bring Dean into this,” Castiel growled.

“Now, now, Castiel, no need to get mad,” Zachariah said condescendingly. His blade materialized in his hand and he struck out at Castiel, forcing the younger angel to spread his wings and retreat to the sky.

Zachariah followed, diving for Castiel and knocking into him, almost sending him back to the ground. Cas kicked out and pushed Zachariah off him, slashing out with his sword while the other angel was disoriented. He nicked Zachariah’s arm, drawing blood.

“You little abomination!” he spat, diving at Castiel again. The two grappled in the air, swords banished in favor of hand to hand combat. Zachariah buried his hand in Castiel’s wings, ripping out chunks of feathers and making Cas shriek in pain. Zachariah laughed and pulled Castiel to him, wrapping unforgiving hands around the bases of his wings. “Let’s see how much Dean likes you when you’re stuck with a pair of useless wings.” He began to crush to delicate bones that made up the base of Castiel’s wings, pulling shrieks and screams from the trapped angel.

Just when Castiel though his wings were about to break, Zachariah was ripped from his back. Castiel looked down and spotted Sam, arm outstretched and holding Zachariah away from Castiel. Cas smiled at Sam, then dove at the struggling Zachariah, sword drawn; he had orders from Michael to kill Zachariah, and he drove the blade through the other angel’s chest, killing him almost instantly. Castiel pulled his sword free and looked at Zachariah’s dead body. “I am sorry, brother.” He said before flying off to rejoin Michael and Aziraphale.

````````````````

Dean and Sam were swiftly taking out any angel who tried to attack them. They made a pretty good team, Sam holding down the angels while Dean took them out. It was effective right until the angels figured out that Sam could only hold one or two at a time; then they started attacking in threes and fours. They fended off their attackers the best they could, but when Sam turned away to stop Zachariah from crippling Castiel, two angels managed to get a hold of them. Sam was grabbed around the neck and pulled to the ground, a hefty man pinning him to the ground with a knee. Out of the corner of his eye, Sam could see Dean in a similar situation.

“Try anything, and we’ll gut your brother,” the angel above him threatened. Sam nodded to the best of his ability with an angelic hand over his throat, and the angel smiled.“Good. Now, I am going to kill you; then we’ll take your brother and Michael and finally end this.” A blade appeared and replaced the hand covering his throat.

Sam could see Dean squirming, trying to get loose and help him, but Sam knew it was futile. He was going to die here, and there was nothing his brother could do to stop it. Sam closed his eyes, preparing to feel the blade slice his throat. But nothing came, and suddenly the weight was ripped from his chest in a burst of light that seared through his eyelids.

Sam sat up and popped his eyes open. The two angels were gone, nothing left to suggest they were ever there. Sam expected Castiel or Aziraphale to have seen what was happening and come to help them. But the person standing above Sam was someone he never thought he’d see again. “Gabriel?”

Gabriel grinned and pulled Sam off the ground. “Hey, kiddo, how you doing?”

Sam gaped, unable to form a coherent sentence and instead pulled Gabriel into a hug. “I’m so glad you’re back,” he whispered into the angel’s honey colored hair. Sam pulled back and smiled. “We so need to talk, but first, you gonna help us?”

Gabriel grinned. “Hell yeah, I am; didn’t fly all this way for nothing!”

````````````````

Michael punched Raphael hard in the mouth, sending the other archangel to his knees. He hadn’t been planning on Raphael being here and had been taken by surprise when one second he was fighting Zachariah and the next the Healer was in front of him.

“What is wrong with you, Raphael? Since when did you kill angels instead of healing them?” Michael asked, wanting to know what had caused his brother to lose his sanity.

“God is dead(,) Michael, and I am weary. We could have Paradise if you would take your vessel and strike down Lucifer,” Raphael growled, getting back to his feet and swinging his nearly invisible sword at Michael.

“Our Father is not dead, and I will never strike down Lucifer. The time for Paradise is not now, brother; can’t you see that?” Michael pleaded as he blocked blow after blow from Raphael. “Where is Christ? That is one thing the human’s Bible got right, Raphael; have you forgotten that?”

Raphael was either ignoring Michael or had never heard him speak, and he rained down blow after blow on Michael. He was relentless, coming at Michael with everything he had and eventually Michael lost his balance and fell to his knees, sword held above him, protecting his head from Raphael’s ruthless attack.

Then they stopped, and Raphael’s sword dropped to the ground as the crazed archangel gazed at the blade protruding through his chest. Raphael dropped to his knees, gasping for unneeded breath as his gaze drifted from the blade to Michael and back.

Michael stared at Gabriel from behind Raphael. There were tears in the smaller archangel’s eyes as he killed his brother. “I’m sorry, Raphael, so sorry,” he heard Gabriel murmur as he pulled his blade free, “but you left me no choice.”

“Gabriel…?” Michael whispered as he pulled himself to his feet. This was the very reason his younger brother had left; Gabriel had been unable to kill his own brothers and sisters.

“Don’t, Michael, not now,” Gabriel pleaded, shaking his head. He couldn’t talk about what he had just done. He had never wanted to raise his sword against his brothers. But Raphael was clearly insane, and would have killed Michael had Gabriel not stepped in. That didn’t make the knowledge of what he had done any easier though.

Michael nodded and gave Gabriel a small smile. “It’s good to see you, little brother.”

`````````````````

Once the angels had realized that Zachariah and Raphael were dead, the remaining angels fled quickly. Michael and Aziraphale followed them, as they were the only two angels who still had full access to Heaven. Gabriel and Castiel gathered the bodies of their fallen brothers and sisters, piling them up in a makeshift pyre. With a snap, Gabriel set the bodies aflame and the two watched silently as they burned. 

“It is good to see you again, Gabriel,” Castiel murmured as he watched the flames. “I regret it is under these circumstances though.”

“So do I, Castiel; so do I,” Gabriel whispered. 

“You are in love with Samuel,” Castiel stated. He didn’t ask because it was obvious the way Gabriel’s grace reacted.

Gabriel barked a laugh. “You don’t waste time, do you, little bro?” he sighed. “Yeah, I am. And I see you’ve finally mated with Dean.”

Castiel nodded. “I have. Does Sam know of your affections?”

Gabriel shrugged thinking of almost kisses and longing looks before he had sacrificed himself. “I guess. Never really had the time what with Luci offing me.”

“Tell him, and do not linger; there are far too many things that could take them away from us,” Cas murmured, thinking of too many close calls the brothers had had.

“I know.”

`````````

Despite his best efforts, Michael had not forgotten Heaven. He and Aziraphale landed just beyond the Gates, startling every angel that walked the street. Cries of Michael’s name resounded throughout Heaven, and Michael could feel his brothers and sisters rejoice at his return.

“Michael!” A pale angel pushed through the gathering crowds.

Michael bowed slightly. “Metatron.”

“I am so happy to see you, Michael! Everyone was worried something bad had happened to you,” Metatron nearly babbled. The hyperactive angel wasn’t what one expected God’s Voice to be like.

“Not everyone,” Michael mumbled, then spoke louder, “What do you know of the angels following Zachariah?”

Metatron dimmed. “Only what we’ve been told. Michael, it’s bad up here; Zachariah and Raphael have gone insane. We cannot say anything against him, or Raphael threatens to imprison us!”

Michael grimaced, it was worse than he had thought. “It’s over now, brother. Zachariah and Raphael are no more, Gabriel and I have made sure of that.”

Metatron brightened again. “Oh, I’m so glad! I doubt the other angels will be of much harm now. They were merely obeying to protect themselves; well, most of them anyways.” There had been a few who wanted the same as Zachariah: to control Heaven.

Michael smiled at his bouncing brother. Metatron had always been a source of entertainment. “Good. I won’t be staying here, Metatron, and I need you to keep things in order for me.”

Metatron cocked his head to the side. “Where are you going?”

Michael sighed. “I’m going to talk to Lucifer.”

Metatron nodded; he knew if things went well, Michael might not return to Heaven for quite some time. And if things didn’t…well, Metatron didn’t think Michael would ever be seen again. “I wish you luck, brother.”

Michael smiled. “Thank you.” He began to turn and head back to where Aziraphale was standing when Metatron called out to him.

“Oh, and Michael, Father says good luck as well.”

Michael almost tripped over his own wings as he spun back around to face Metatron, only to find the other angel gone. Father says good luck as well? What did that mean? Was The Father really watching from somewhere, still caring about what happened to His children? Michael didn’t know, but Metatron’s words gave him hope, hope that maybe he could end this once and for all.

```````````

Gabriel had transported Sam to a plush room as soon as he got the ok from Dean. Which had been extremely surprising itself. Take Sam outta here; he’s not been sleeping well since you died. Just take care of him and I won’t use Cas’ sword on you. Now, Sam was sitting on the big king bed staring at Gabriel.

“Your brother told me you missed me, Sammy,” Gabriel said, rocking back and forth on his heels.

Sam blushed and nodded, averting his eyes and looking down. “Yeah.”

Gabriel stepped forward and grasped Sam’s head, pulling him up to look in Sam’s eyes. “We never really got very far before Luci stabbed me, but I was under the impression that you wanted something with me.”

Sam nodded again. “I did, still do,” he whispered.

Gabriel smiled. “Good.” He closed the gap between them and brushed his lips over Sam’s, just barely kissing him.

Sam lurched forward and deepened it, crushing his lips to Gabriel’s. Gabriel moaned and Sam licked into his mouth, tangling their tongues together. He pulled Gabriel into his lap, breaking the kiss and instead pressing hot, open mouthed kisses to the archangel’s jaw, working his way down the smooth throat.

Gabriel gasped and moaned, tangling his fingers in Sam’s hair. He rocked forward, pushing Sam down on the bed. He leaned above him, panting for unneeded breath. “Do you want me, Sammy?”

Sam moaned and said something he’d sworn to never say to an angel.

“Yes.”

```````````````````

 

Michael saw Lucifer for the first time in six thousand years in an abandoned parking lot in Detroit. Michael arrived first, landing and folding away his wings, looking around the sunlit lot. Detroit was almost empty of humans due to Lucifer’s presence, and like his brother had said, it would all go down in Detroit, just not like Lucifer had planned.

When Lucifer stepped out from behind a building, Michael was shocked at his appearance. His vessel was falling apart at the seams. Burns peppered his face and hands, and his grace shone from the wounds. His clothes were ragged--like he hadn’t had a chance to change in a long while—and burned from the exposed grace. But it was the state of his wings that worried Michael the most.

An angel’s wings were an extension of their grace, and very little could actually injure them. Lucifer’s were ragged. Feathers torn and some even missing, the long flight feathers were burned and looked like some of them had been cut in half. What was once a soft grey was now soot black, turned by thousands of years of Hellfire. He’d damned his brother, his mate, to this fate. But when he looked closer, past the vessel, Lucifer’s grace wasn’t charred like most Fallen. It was still the same bright light that it had always been.

“Oh God…” he whispered.

Lucifer smiled grimly. “Taking Father’s name in vain? Not very angelic of you, Michael.”

Michael scoffed. “I haven’t been an angel in twenty years. It’s a little late to worry about that.” He stepped closer, coming close enough that he could reach out and caress Lucifer with his wings if he wanted to.

“What do you want from me, Michael? I’m tired of all the run around.” Lucifer sighed. Being this close to Michael had his grace straining to reach out, straining to envelope Michael in its embrace. It was almost painful to rein it in.

“I want you to stop this. I’ve straightened out Heaven; no one is trying to bring about the Apocalypse now but you,” Michael was on the verge of begging.

“I thought this was Father’s will? That this was what I was destined to do?” Lucifer asked, waving his arms to encompass the destruction of the city around them.

Michael shook his head. “Our Father is no longer in Heaven, and I believe we have Free Will now. We can end this! Please, Lucifer!”

Lucifer laughed coldly. “Why? I am alone in this world, Michael! I am no longer welcome in Heaven, and I will not return to the Cage.”

“Because I still love you!” Michael yelled, enough of his true voice shining through to crack the concrete beneath his feet.

Lucifer stood still in shock, unable to believe what he had just heard. “…what…?” he rasped.

Michael trembled, and his wings burst free to wrap around his body. “I still love you, Lucifer.” He shook his head, willing away tears. “It’s why I left Heaven; I couldn’t be there when they were celebrating your Fall and all I wanted to do was grieve your loss.” He stepped closer, reaching out with a hand to stroke down Lucifer’s face, cupping his cheek gently. “I don’t think I’ll ever be able to stop loving you.”

Lucifer swallowed hard. “After all I’ve done? Killing our brothers? Killing Gabriel? You can honestly say you can over look that?”

Michael nodded. “I’m not exactly happy with what you’ve done, but I can forgive you. I have forgiven you. So has Gabriel. Neither of us holds grudges against you.” He stroked his thumb across Lucifer’s cheekbone. “But can you forgive me?” He would always regret following that particular order.

Lucifer leaned into Michael’s touch, reveling in the feel of Michael’s grace after so long without it. “I love you as well. I know you couldn’t disobey when you cast me out; I never held that against you.”

Michael sobbed and wrapped his wings around Lucifer, holding him close. He let loose the restraint he had on his grace and let it intertwine with Lucifer’s, letting the bond that had been closed for so long between them be renewed. “Love you, love you, love you,” he murmured, pressing quick kisses all over Lucifer’s face. For the first time in what felt like forever, Michael was happy. He loved the feeling.

````````````````````

Perched atop the highest building in Detroit, Aziraphale and Crowley waited. Aziraphale had a direct line to Michael and was listening attentively. After a few moments, he slumped in relief and laughed. “It’s over!” He jumped up and grabbed Crowley into a fierce hug. The couple laughed and floated a few feet above the roof.

“We’ve done it again, love.” Crowley laughed, kissing his angel hard.

Aziraphale chuckled and ran his fingers through Crowley’s hair. “Yes, but let’s hope this is the last one for a while.”

“Mmm, yes, I’ve much better ideas we can occupy ourselves with,” he said, wiggling a hand between their bodies.

Aziraphale gasped, “Oh! You dirty demon!”

``````````````````````

Sam was fast asleep, stretched out on the King size bed that occupied the room Gabriel had snapped into existence. Gabriel was curled up next to him, keeping one eye on Sam and another on the conversation between his brothers. When he felt Michael and Lucifer’s grace twine, he pressed closer to Sam. “Thank you, Father,” he whispered. Gabriel wouldn’t wake Sam; he knew his mate needed all the rest he could get. Gabriel just curled closer, tucking himself under Sam’s arm, palm resting lightly on the fresh handprint decorating Sam’s hip.

Sam turned and pulled Gabriel closer murmuring in his sleep, “Love you.”

Gabriel smiled and snuggled closer. “Love you too.”

```````````````````

Back at the motel, Castiel sighed in relief. He had been monitoring Michael and Lucifer’s conversation. He turned to Dean, who had long since fallen asleep and shook him awake. Dean grumbled and yawned, sitting up and leaning against Cas.

Cas hugged him close. “It’s over, Dean. It’s finally over.” 

Dean sat up and looked Cas in the eyes, smiling wider and brighter than he had in years. “Seriously? Michael did it?”

Cas smiled, eyes bright with grace and love. “Yes, Michael did it.”

Dean laughed, and buried his hands in Cas’ hair. “And you won’t have to leave? You’ll stay on earth?”

“I’m never leaving you, Dean,” he whispered, wrapping his wings around his human. “I love you too much.”

Dean rested his forehead against Cas’, kissing him softly. “Good, cause I love you too.”

 

END


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